That’s more like it! I’m currently John Landis-ing it up right now with my cute little beard! It’s sooooo cuuuuute I want to name it Dr. Wiggles and keep it in a cage with fresh hay and give it nothing but kisses and hugs and feed it little yogurt pellets and take it to Sears for cute Sears-style photos!

As a film enthusiast I eagerly limber up each late January Tuesday morning to find out what movies, actors, actresses, writers, industry types, fluffers, etc., I and everyone else will be snarkily Tweeting about or Facebook statusing about come that Hot March Sunday Night where Hollywood Boulevard shoos away all the shitheads (winos eating out of Hooters’ garbage, trainhopping punk kids with their Op Ivy shirts, any and all celebrity impersonators outside the Chinese Theater, Mexicans) and rolls out the red carpet!

Yesterday morning, the 84th Annual Academy Awards nominees were announced. I didn’t see much of the nominated films, so the hub-bub didn’t really hub-bub the fucking hub-bub out of me. The only two nominated films (all categories) I saw this year were Hugo and War Horse (pathetic, I know! Even more pathetic because I shilled out $15 to see The Smurfs in 3D!). But what was worse was my absolute shock of films that didn’t get nominated! In any category!

Here I present the 2011 films that the Academy must’ve had a mailing mishap with their screeners, because there’s just no other excuse to explain how in the absolute fuck did these not get nominated?!?!?!

Battle: Los Angeles

We were graced, earlier this year, by this tale of aliens invading my good city of Los Angeles (they should’ve just invaded Torrance and took out this one girl I used to fuck, God what a cunt) and just blowing it all to shit. The Academy usually loves big spectacles, so why not this one? Hey Academy, L.A. is your town, too. And to depict a film where your town, Los Angeles, gets attacked by some pretty scary looking outer space assholes is no cake walk. People died in this film. People of Los Angeles. And for you to overlook the martyrdom of the good people of the same city that you call home is a fucking horseshit cop out. Fucking ludicrous.

Tyler Perry’s Madea’s Big Happy Family

Can they just fucking give Perry an Oscar already? Shit. The man busts his ass every single year, giving the people what they want. Tales of morality and farting and family issues that no one can even grasp quite like Tyler Perry. This was like the huge ensemble film that Lawrence Kasdan or Robert Altman couldn’t have even dreamed of. And the fact that – outside of Bow Wow, who was also robbed of an Oscar for his weighty performance in Lottery Ticket – he went with a cast of unknowns shows Perry’s humility. He’s not afraid to tell Janet Jackson or the Reverend Marvin Winans to get lost for this outing, and that he’s going to take a group of unknowns and transform them into acting masters. Tyler, you are a master, and the Academy needs to clean the shit out of their eyes.

Noisy Boy, Real Steel

The day in the future is going to come when the Academy will start recognizing robots. Nobody ever thought an African American, an Asian American, a homosexual, or even a pedophile (Alan Ball) could be nominated for an Oscar, much less win one. Dogs or cats can’t be nominated because they’re unpredictable (and, unless they can talk like they do in Marmaduke, they can’t recite human speech, so don’t be expecting any famous movie quotes), so that leaves robots. The Academy should consider awarding robots. Now. Get it out of the way now so that 100 years from now when an animatronic Lawrence Olivier walks up to the podium for his portrayal of Julius Caesar, he won’t give this big boring speech about the goodwill of robot actors “…we never forget our lines because they’re programmed!”

Bryan Cranston, Larry Crowne

He deserves an Oscar just for this one line in the movie: “I like big knockers!!!”

Hank Azaria, The Smurfs

You didn’t think I was going to leave this one out, did you? One of the few movies I actually did see this year, The Smurfs pretty much sucked mummy dick. However, the lone bright spot was Hank Azaria’s fearless performance as Gargamel. The spell chanting! The scene where he takes a dump in the wine bucket at the fancy restaurant! The nonstop scenes of him trying to “emerge” from New York street mist! The mugging, oh, the mugging! Azaria’s performance is one for the ages, and it should be proof that as actors, actors should never fear anything except inspiring stalkers. Give him a fucking Oscar, Academy!

So almost 2 weeks have passed and the beard is coming in much better. Judging by this photo, I’m at the point that most post-op transgender men are at when their testosterone is working. I’m not at full-on Francis Ford Coppola beard-stage yet but I’ll be getting there. Look at my mouth sideways. It looks like a party doll’s labia (not the cheap ones but the $200 ones, the inflatable rubbery latex ones; how I know this is beyond me, I’m not THAT desperate. I think I saw one on an old episode of HBO’s Real Sex back in 2000).

Day 2: I didn’t drink or smoke pot last night, and I took a shower. The beard is starting to come in just a little bit. I’m starting to look like an Italian grandmother, or a derelict. The feel of it is starting to feel less like sandpaper and more like velcro, whatever that means. Stay tuned…

I’ve decided to grow a beard again. Partly because most of the girls I’m attracted to on OKCupid.com say that they are into beards (because I need to get laid, not that I don’t but because I am a nymphomaniac, which in street terms means ‘cool, legal sex offender’). Also partly because 2012 is a new year, and it’s time for a new ‘me’. I’m tired of looking like a boy. I want to look like a fucking man!

If people have a problem with me growing a beard, they can go to fucking hell!

But here, at current, is my beard. I’m at my work desk, wearing my pink t-shirt with the Zenith logo on it (I bought it online fyi). I am reminded of the lead singer of Winger. Or Lorenzo Lamas. You know? Not a full beard, not a five o’clock shadow, but something just right.